


Thinking Of You

by thnksfrthwrds



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: M/M, Mental Illness, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-06
Packaged: 2018-02-11 08:55:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2061909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thnksfrthwrds/pseuds/thnksfrthwrds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"The pill bottles next to the cup at the edge of the sink mocked him silently:  he knew he had to take them, but he never wanted to. They were a constant reminder that he wasn't...completely 'alright' in the head."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Mornings

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Patrick/Pete fic, as well as my first fic on this website. I hope you enjoy.

Pete got out of bed, though he didn't want to. His bones ached, and his head felt fuzzy. He flinched when his feet touched the cool wood floor. He rubbed his bleary eyes, and ran his hands through his hair, a yawn slipping out. One brown eye twitched uneasily as he padded bare-footed over to the dresser; he jumped at every flickering shadow, never knowing which one would whisper to him, force more insecurities down his throat. Clothes were pulled from their homes in the dresser drawers. Pete hopped to the bathroom, hardly allowing his feet to touch the freezing floor. He pulled a towel down from the shelf, tossed his clothes onto the counter, and turned the shower on full-blast. Time to get ready for the day, he told himself firmly, examining his face in the mirror. Last night's eyeliner was still smudged and messy around his eyes, and hair fell over one of them. He blinked; sometimes, it took him a little more time than usual to get going in the morning. The pill bottles next to the cup at the edge of the sink mocked him silently: he knew he had to take them, but he never wanted to. They were a constant reminder that he wasn't…completely "alright" in the head.

But before that…shower time.

He stripped his clothes off, tossing them at the clothes basket in the corner; they landed in a messy pile next to it. He shrugged. Didn't matter.

Pete stepped under the warm spray. It coursed over his body, loosening up his tense muscles. He closed his eyes, and relaxed. For once, everything was quiet. Peaceful almost. The tension drained from his shoulders and neck. His muscles slackened, and his mind was only humming with the possibility of later thoughts. He sighed, content. He could almost fall asleep there. The thrum of warm water coming from the faucet, the lack of thinking, the quiet… It was nice.

He stayed there until the water started turning cold. Grumbling, he scrubbed shampoo into his hair, then rubbed body soap across his tan skin. He rinsed under the rapidly cooling water before shutting it off. He slid the glass door open, groped around the wall for the towel hanging on the rack, and pulled it to himself. He toweled his hair halfway dry, and wrapped the towel snugly around his waist. Another yawn slipped out; his bones and muscles felt heavy and waterlogged. More than anything, he wanted to curl up in his bed, and go right back to sleep. A few more hours of dark nothingness to tide him over through the afternoon and evening. 

He air-dried for awhile, lacking the motivation to actually dry himself off. Pete chucked the dirty towel at the basket, missed, and grabbed his boxers from the pile of clothes on the counter. He tugged them on, followed by his work pants and button-down shirt. The tiles were warmed by steam from the shower, but also a little slick; he slipped, and caught himself against the counter. With a huff, and a quick realization that whatever pushed him was obviously trying to tell him something, Pete shook out his morning pills and filled the cup with water. He swallowed them in one go, a professional after doing so for about four and a half years. He gulped down a few more sips of water, set the cup back on the edge of the sink, and brushed his teeth. He rinsed out his mouth, and wiped it on the hand towel folded up on the counter; he dropped it on the counter, rumpled, and left the bathroom.

Time to start the day.

-xxx-

The bell on the door jingled as Pete walked into the small coffee shop café he went to every morning. His head pounded; he'd forgotten to take his migraine medication, and he was getting his ass kicked for it. He massaged his temples as he headed for the counter. Maybe coffee and a caffeine kick would help relieve his throbbing head. _The consequences for forgetting one dumbass medication._ The line wasn't long, there were only two people. Pete waited behind them, eyes closed, index fingers rubbing vicious circles into his temples. He sighed; it wasn't helping. More than anything, it was making it worse. He stepped up to the counter when it was his turn to order, thinking it might just be best to get a black coffee.

"Hi, I'm Joe, can I take your order?" the curly-haired barista asked, practically beaming. It was only nine in the goddamn morning; how was any teenager working a morning shift on a _Saturday_ that happy?

"Large black coffee…please," Pete added after a second of thought. He didn't want to come off as rude, and ruin the kid's mood. He seemed new… Pete had never seen Joe around here before. He snickered silently to himself, thinking it was funny how the barista Joe was brewing him a fresh hot cup of joe. After he thought about it for another second, he realized how stupid it was. 

"Do you come here a lot?" asked Joe. He glanced over his shoulder at Pete, expecting an answer, no doubt. 

"Um, yeah. Every morning on my way to work actually," Pete stuttered. He hated talking to new people. It made him jittery and nervous. 

"That's cool. I usually come here after school with some friends."

Pete nodded, but his attention was elsewhere. A short, somewhat chubby kid was sitting, alone, in a little booth tucked away, almost out of sight. All Pete really noticed was that he was cute, even hiding under a beanie and a hoodie two sizes too large. Snapping fingers brought his attention back to the counter, his coffee, and Joe.

"Hey, dude, your coffee's ready," Joe informed Pete. "That'll be $3.95."

"Oh, right. H-here," Pete muttered, cheeks flaring red with embarrassment. He slid a five dollar bill across the counter. "Keep the change."

"Thanks!"

Pete nodded once more, grabbed his coffee, and hurried out of the coffee shop. He kind of hated himself for not chancing it; he could've just gone over to the kid, introduced himself, and maybe had a nice conversation for once. 

_You really need to learn to suck it up, Wentz. You're never going to get anywhere with anyone, friend-wise or any otherwise. If he's there tomorrow, you will talk to him. Or you'll go home and burn yourself like you deserve because you have no friends and no girlfriend or boyfriend to stop your little pussy ass, one of the voices in his head mocked._

Pete sipped his coffee and walked down the street towards his workplace. But he still couldn't get that kid out of his mind. 

-xxx-

Computer keys clicked continuously all around Pete. The guy in the black cloak was still standing in the corner, staring at him and judging his every move. Pete was doing his best to ignore him, but sweat was breaking out on his neck and forehead, and his anxiety was pumping through his veins like blood. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. He forced his eyes to stay on his computer screen, on task, but he could still feel the burning of the black cloak man's eyes boring into the back of his head. A whimper jumped out of Pete's throat.

"Wentz?" Pete's boss, Andy, questioned, glancing into the cubicle. "Everything alright?"

"Y-yes sir, Mr. Hurley," Pete stuttered. He looked down at his watch; an hour and a half left until lunch. He could survive until then. He just had to ignore the black cloak man--

"Take an early lunch, alright? Don't overwork yourself."

"Th-thank you…" Pete leaped out of his chair, gathered up his bag and shitty cup of coffee from the employee breakroom, and dashed out of the cubicle. 

He managed to trip twice on his way down the central aisle; one of his coworkers yelled "way to go Wentz, ya weirdo!" Pete's face burned with embarrassment as he used his jacket to mop up the spilled coffee, and attempted to salvage his now coffee-stained paperwork. His eyes stung with fresh tears, but he wouldn't cry. Not here, not now.

"Nobody likes you!"

"You're such a klutz, why don't you just go home and not come back?"

"Whatta freak!"

"I think the circus is looking for you! The clowns are missin' ya!"

Pete ran out of the office, barely slowing down as he raced down the stairs. He fell down the last few, picked himself up, not bothering to gather up his spilled paperwork, and shoved the door open. Sunlight welcomed him back into the outside world; he wiped his eyes on his shirt sleeves, and sniffled. He couldn't bring himself to care about the stripe of snot on the back of his hand and his sleeve. He should've just told Andy he quit while he was still in there. He didn't want to go back in there. Not where there were mocking, hateful voices, and creepy guys wearing black cloaks that didn't show their faces. He hugged his dripping jacket; he didn't care that he reeked of shitty coffee. He was just glad to be out of there.

It made him even happier that he was alive.


	2. The Kid In The Corner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The pill bottles next to the cup at the edge of the sink mocked him silently: he knew he had to take them, but he never wanted to. They were a constant reminder that he wasn't...completely 'alright' in the head."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2nd Chapter! Sorry it's not as long as the first - the first was mainly introductory, hence the longer length. Chapters from here on out will probably be about as long as this. Tell me what you think xo

Pete knew coffee wouldn't calm his nerves. But he loved coffee, and maybe, just maybe, there was a chance that the kid he saw earlier might still be there. He knew it was a long shot, that it wasn't really all that probable, but what the hell. Coffee wasn't going to make his morning worse, and seeing that kid again could be an awesome bonus. Especially if Pete got up the guts to go talk to him. Maybe the kid would actually like him. Take a liking to Pete seemed…odd, but hey. It was possible. Andy had, even though it'd taken some time. And that Joe kid that worked at the coffee shop--Pete could grow to like him, considering he was nice and kind of bubbly. Outgoing, but not in the totally obnoxious way that Pete couldn't stand.

The bell jingled overhead as Pete stepped into the coffee shop.

And, as Pete hoped, the kid was huddled up in his booth, textbooks splayed out in front of him on the table. He was studying; Pete thought this was funny, considering he hadn't had the textbooks a few hours earlier, and it was a Saturday. Who studied on a Saturday?

"Hey!" Joe called from the counter.

The kid looked up, gave Pete a once over, blushed, and turned back to his books. Pete smiled, and strolled up to the counter. Smiling felt weird, but it was alright. He could get used to the feeling settling in his stomach, a feeling of content with a handful of butterflies thrown in. Kid was cute. Round face and bright eyes, almost completely hidden by a trucker cap and hood. His hands were fisted into his sleeves. Pete was absolutely taken with him.

"Same thing as earlier?" Joe questioned.

"Sure," Pete replied, and leaned on the counter. 

Joe turned and started to make it, humming a tune under his breath. Pete yawned, and watched him. His eyes traveled lazily; they ended up back on the kid. Joe set his coffee down and tapped Pete's shoulder. 

"Whatcha starin' at?" 

Pete glanced at him. "Oh, um, nothing."

"$3.95."

Pete slapped four dollars down on the counter, and dumped the coins into the tip mug. Then, he headed to the booth where the kid was sitting. Feeling courageous, he slide into the booth opposite him, and put on his best smile.

The kid looked up. "Um, can I h-help you?" he stuttered, sounding as nervous as Pete felt.

"You looked lonely." Pete shrugged and offered his hand. "Pete Wentz."

The kid shook it, untangling his hand from his hoodie sleeve momentarily. "Patrick Stump."

"Whatcha studyin'?"

"Oh um…music theory. It's my favorite. I can't learn enough about it." Patrick grinned sheepishly, his eyes glowing and his face brightening to a fine shade of red. "Music is my life."

"I like music. Can't play it though."

"Have you tried?"

"Yeah, it didn't work out. D'you play?"

Patrick nodded, settling his hands in his lap. His shoulders slumped a little. Pete thought it was utterly adorable.

"Well, what d'you play?"

"Drums, trumpet, guitar, bass, piano…pretty much everything," Patrick mumbled, turning redder and looking away from Pete's face.

"That's amazing."

"I could um…teach you some time. If you'd like."

Pete grinned. "That sounds great."

He couldn't believe how well it was going. Patrick was so _nice_. So open to wherever Pete took the conversation; he just flowed with it, switching topics automatically. Making Pete fall for him more and more with every word, every laugh, every smile. Pete even tried some of his worst jokes and cheesy pick-up lines. Patrick laughed at every one, and blushed at every sign of Pete flirting with him. At one point, Pete even risked reaching across the table to rest his hand over Patrick's.

Nothing ever felt so right.

It felt so right, that he didn't even notice Joe staring at him like he was some sort of freak.

-xxx-

Patrick managed to convince Pete that he had to return to work, if only to finish the day and quit. Grudgingly, Pete allowed himself to be suckered into it. In his defense, Patrick's puppy dog eyes and pouty face should be illegal, and he had no way of saying no.

He knocked on Andy's office door at the end of his shift with a soft, "Mr. Hurley?"

"C'mon in, Pete," Andy replied.

Pete stepped into the office and stood right inside the door. He looked anywhere but at Andy. "I quit."

"Pete--"

"They're mean to me. I don't wanna deal with it."

"Think about this okay? Take a few days off, get back in a better headspace--"

"I'm _fine_. My headspace is _fine_ , Mr. Hurley."

"You're bad again, Pete. And you know it."

Pete growled, fists clenching. "That's not true!" He was suddenly very aware of the pounding centralized in his left temple. His eye twitched.

"Calm down."

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Come back in a few days Pete. Then we can talk. Maybe we can set it up so you can work from home."

"Whatever," Pete muttered, and left.

At least he had a guitar lesson with Patrick later that night.


End file.
